


Lessons in ownership

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Dubious Consent, M/M, Master/Pet, Ownership, Sexual Slavery, Spanking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It had been a simple enough transaction. He’d been in the market for a new pet and the Horans had found themselves with debts they could not manage on their own. Bressie had seen an opportunity and taken it. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in ownership

**Author's Note:**

> I was re-reading some of my favorite kink meme fills from past fandoms and had the urge to right something un-apologetically filthy. Please read the tags. 
> 
> This is not a work-in-progress, this story can stand alone, but I do intend to add subsequent, stand-alone stories in the same universe.

The lad is delivered to him on the morning of the first day of Spring when the air is still cool and crisp, the last remnants of winter clinging tenaciously to the ash branches. Bressie’s just finished his morning ride across the fields, over the rolling hills of his estate, taking in the shift from one season into the next. He spent an hour running his mare across the open land as the sun rose up over the Irish countryside, working off the restless energy that built steadily over the last week. 

He’s walking back from the stables when he sees the familiar ancient carriage disappear down the tree-lined drive to turn back onto the main thoroughfare. 

He quickens his pace, his blood humming with anticipation. It’s been years since the Breslin estate has had a pet and Bressie’s eager to see his new acquisition again, this time in his house, on his territory. 

He’s replayed their first meeting constantly over the last week, remembering the details from the boy’s pale skin and wide blue eyes to the way his eyes had roamed over Bressie, unabashed, open curiosity on his face. 

His household has spent the better part of the last week readying the manor for the boy’s arrival and Bressie has forced himself to remain busy, to keep to his familiar routine. 

Bressie climbs the stairs and the wide, ancient oak doors open for him, the manor’s butler Griggs waiting for him, impeccably dressed and stoic as ever. 

“He is in the library, my Lord,” Griggs informs him with little emotion but a quick flicker of disdain flashes across his features before he catches himself. 

“Thank you,” Bressie says, ignoring his butler’s reaction and divesting himself of his overcoat. 

“Has he been offered refreshment? I imagine he’s hungry.” 

“Yes, my Lord,” Griggs replies with the slightest hint of annoyance that Bressie only catches because he’s known Griggs his entire life, well enough to know he’s offended at the mere suggestion he’s been anything less than professional. 

Bressie flashes the butler a grin and goes to greet his new pet. 

The library is one of Bressie’s favorite rooms and at this time of day it’s full of light, illuminating the space and reminding Bressie of its charm. The boy is seated across from the large oak desk situated prominently in the center of the bay of windows. He gets hastily to his feet when Bressie enters. 

He’s just as lovely as he remembers, his skin pale, his eyes a vivid blue. He’s dressed in what Bressie guesses are his finest garments, dark breeches and a shirt but even from this distance Bressie can see the wear in them. 

“Hiya Bres - uh, my lord,” he says, his cheeks turning an attractive shade of pink as he catches himself. 

He remembers the lad from when he was much younger, five and six, racing around the stables and bringing much needed laughter and sunshine into the house before Mr. Horan moved the family to the village. 

Bressie gives the boy a smile he hopes is welcoming and not wolfish and looks him over from head to toe. He’s had the staff notified of the preparations that have to be made - new clothes and shoes, grooming and a thorough cleaning. Seeing him here in Bressie’s home makes him want to forget the promise he made himself and all the things that need to be done and just take the boy here and now. 

Niall doesn’t appear all that nervous though there is certainly a restless energy in him. 

“You may have a seat,” Bressie says to him as he moves into the library to take a seat behind the desk. 

He watches Niall sit, holding his hands in his lap and Bressie can see how hard he’s fighting to keep from fidgeting. 

He bites back a smile at that. He’s never been more turned on by the prospect of training a pet as he is with the Horan boy. 

“I am going to give you a reprieve,” Bressie says and watches Niall’s face change, uncertainty clouding his expression. 

“My lord?”

“You are a new pet. I imagine there is a lot about being a pet that you need to learn. There are also preparations that need to be made. You may have the day to roam about the gardens and the house, to acclimate to your surroundings. We will begin training in the morning.” 

“You are dismissed,” he says and watches as the lad gets to his feet, weighted down by confusion. 

He instructs Griggs to show the boy to his temporary chambers. Eventually he’ll sleep in Bressie’s room, on the custom made pet bed he’d commissioned and had installed at the foot of his own bed. For now, until he fully understands his role as a pet, what’s expected of him, Bressie has him taken to the small bedroom at the end of the corridor. 

He watches from the doorway of the library as Niall picks up his meager rucksack of belongings and follows Griggs up the grand staircase. He keeps darting furtive little glances over his shoulder that make Bressie itch to throw his good intentions out the window. 

*

Bressie hadn’t intended to purchase a new pet for himself so quickly. It hadn’t been long since he’d set his last one free, cutting his collar, tucking a purse into his hand and letting him loose. 

But he also hadn’t planned on seeing Niall in the village, making purchases and charming the shopkeeper’s daughter with a dazzling smile. He hadn’t seen him in nearly ten years and Bressie almost hadn’t recognized him. And then the boy had turned towards him, all laughing blue eyes and a sweet face full of sunshine and Bressie had felt as if he’d been poleaxed. He hadn’t wanted anything as much as he had wanted Niall in that moment. 

It had been a simple enough transaction. He’d been in the market for a new pet and the Horans had found themselves with debts they could not manage on their own. Bressie had seen an opportunity and taken it. 

Bressie might have questioned whether the lad knew what he’d been bartered off to if it hadn’t been for the unmistakable flush on his pale skin and the way his hand had hovered over the front of his breeches, as if soothing an ache he hadn’t realized was there. 

What Bressie doesn’t understand is why the boy hasn’t been claimed before now. He’s fifteen, a few years past the age of eligibility for ownership. He’s lovely to look at and Bressie hasn’t so much as touched him and already he can tell how responsive he’ll be. 

Bressie’s an idiot for giving the boy a grace period. In the past he would have initiated the lad right there in the library on his belly in the daylight. But Bressie’s fondness for Niall has softened him and while he fully intends to make use of him in every conceivable way, he can’t help but slow things down a bit and ease him into his new situation. 

It’s for the boy’s benefit. He’s fresh and young, unsullied and unaware of the depraved things Bressie plans on doing to him. 

By the end of the afternoon he’s ready to forget it and put the boy on his knees. He has the damnedest way of looking at Bressie with raw hunger and interest, unabashed until he’s caught and then his skin goes a lovely shade of pink as he busies himself pretending to be interested in the portrait Bressie’s shown him or the books in the library. 

By the time Bressie retreats to his chambers, he’s frustrated with himself and irritated beyond belief. His cock has been hard since the boy arrived and when Bressie had given him free range of the grounds, he hadn’t expected the lad to spend the day as Bressie’s shadow, dogging his footsteps and keeping up a steady stream of chatter. 

He readies himself for sleep and then climbs into bed with the intention of bringing himself off, his hand already wrapping around his cock before he’s even settled back against the pillows. 

The door to his bedroom pushes open abruptly. He knows before he sees him that it’s the boy. There’s not a soul under his roof who would be so brazen as to barge in, unannounced, to his personal chambers. Niall, while intelligent and sharp, hasn’t a lick of self-preservation or common sense. 

Bressie’s looking forward to disciplining all the recklessness right out of him. 

Niall closes the door behind him and turns the key in the lock, and Bressie wants to laugh at at the intriguing mix of apprehension and eagerness in the boy as he moves across the room. The bravado fades the closer he comes to the bed and by the time he’s standing next to Bressie he’s uncertain. 

Bressie keeps his expression neutral as he takes in the lad in his night shirt. “I believe I told you my expectations.” 

Niall’s jaw twitches and Bressie can see the effort it’s taking him to keep his eyes on him. “Yes, my lord,” he mumbles. 

“And what do you have to say for yourself?” 

Niall seems to get a boost of courage from somewhere and he climbs the set of stairs to settle himself in Bressie’s bed as if he has every right to be there. He still looks like a frightened forest animal but Bressie can see the determination propelling him forward. 

Bressie can see he’s not going to get an answer and his patience, already frayed and stretched taut, is threatening to snap. He grips Niall by the upper arms, none too gently, and hauls him into his lap, right over his cock, still hidden from view beneath the covers, but unmistakable nonetheless. 

Niall’s eyes widen and Bressie hears the catch in his throat. 

“You’re quite lovely,” Bressie says quietly. The moonlight gives off enough light that Bressie can see Niall’s face, his pale skin, the slender slope of his throat. “Even if you are an impertinent little thing.” 

The right thing to do is to put the boy in his place _now_ , before he gets too comfortable and forgets his purpose. But Bressie can’t do that just yet. As the lad’s owner, his master, Bressie is in his rights to take what he wants, to make demands. But his fondness for the boy is a right pain in the arse. 

“Thank you my lord,” Niall whispers and Bressie can see the nervous way he swallows, his hands clenched uncertainly at his sides. 

“Tell me,” Bressie urges, keeping his voice low. He strokes his thumb over the pulse point below Niall’s jaw. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Niall shivers visibly at Bressie’s touch and Bressie thinks, not for the first time, how lucky he is to be the one to claim Niall has his, sweetly untouched and openly curious. 

“I’m your pet.”

Bressie grips him by the scruff of his neck, his skin warm beneath his palm, and tugs firmly enough that Niall has to tilt his head back. His eyes are wide, surprised. Bressie scans them carefully looking for fear, or alarm. What he sees is a wary kind of interest. 

“And do you know what that entails? What it means to be my pet?” He keeps his grip tight on the boy’s neck. 

The blush that spreads across Niall’s cheeks is a lovely pink that mottles his skin and gives Bressie an idea or two about seeing where else the boy goes pink. Niall swallows. “Greg said that you’re going to bugger me.” His voice is barely a whisper like he can’t say the words out loud.

Bressie makes a thoughtful sound, contemplating. “Is that right? What else did Greg say?”

Niall squirms in Bressie’s grip. “Nothing. He said that what I want doesn’t matter. That you own me now.”

“He’s right,” Bressie tells him, keeping his voice quiet and dangerous. “I own you. You belong to me. And yet, here you are, disobeying my orders, wandering into my chambers as if you are the master of the manor.” 

For the first time, the boy looks properly afraid. 

“I have gone easy on you because you are a new pet, young and inexperienced. I thought it kind, if a little soft, to spare you on your first day. Seems rather foolish of me, in retrospect, since it’s clear to me that what you need more than kindness is discipline.” 

Niall’s head drops down in shame. “Yes, my lord. I’m sorry.” 

Bressie clucks his tongue at him. “Not yet, but you will be. Look at me.”

He watches the boy war with himself, shame making his face warm and fear telling him to obey. Finally when Niall raises his head Bressie says, “I’m not going to take you tonight.” 

The boy’s response is immediate, his body going taut with tension, disappointment and frustration in the hunch of his shoulders, and a protest on his lips. It’s apparent that despite his innocence and inexperience, the lad wants what he doesn’t understand. 

Bressie grips him by the jaw between thumb and forefinger, firm enough it makes Niall’s breath catch and his head snap back.

“Listen to me. I have put up with your impertinence because you are newly arrived and you don’t know any better. But that ends now. I am the master of this house, and by extension, everything under this roof and on this property. And that means you. You belong to me. And as such, you will bend to my will.”

Niall has gone still and quiet in Bressie’s lap but his breathing is erratic, his face mottled with color, and Bressie can feel his arousal. 

“That means, if I tell you I’m not going to take you tonight, because you aren’t ready, you will not argue with me. If you need to say something, ‘thank you my lord’ is acceptable.”

He settles his hand between the boy’s thighs, through the material of his night shirt. His cock is hard beneath Bressie’s palm, slender and curved up in a way that must be painful as hard as the boy is. 

Bressie rucks the boy’s shirt up over his hips, exposing his erection to the cool air. It really is lovely, like the rest of him. Bressie finds him appealing in all ways. He’s slight, narrow hips and skinny little legs and he’s just started to grow into his frame. He’s got a faint smattering of hair on his chest and beneath his belly button and not a whisker on his face. 

Bressie pushes at the blankets, freeing his own cock, rock hard and leaking at the head. 

Niall gasps when he sees it, looking down between them with his mouth open and his eyes wide, a dazed, somewhat hungry expression on his face. 

“That’s right,” Bressie says, keeping an arm around the boy’s waist and gripping the his cock with his free hand. “I know you don’t understand. You think you do,” he says when Niall starts to protest. “But if I take you now, like this, before you’re ready, it will tear you apart. You need to be prepared, sweet pet.” 

Niall’s breathing has gone shallow and he’s squirming in Bressie’s lap, his body revved up and aching. Niall bears down on him in frustration, a needy little sound escaping and turning into a groan as Bressie’s cock nudges up between his thighs, catching on warm flesh that is unmistakably slicked up with oil. 

Bressie goes still as his brain tries to catch up. “Oh pet,” he breathes and in one sudden, fluid motion he grips the boy by his slender thighs and manhandles him to his stomach, nudging his legs apart with his knee, his shirt pushed up underneath his arms. 

“Jesus Christ, lad,” Bressie mutters as he takes in the sight of the boy with his arse tilted up. His thighs are slicked up and when Bressie sets a palm to the swell of his arse and pries him open, he can see the boy’s little clench smeared with oil. Bressie ducks down to get a closer look and finds his hole pink and sore looking. “What have you done to yourself?” 

Niall rubs his face in the bedcovers. “Please touch me,” he begs, rubbing himself against the mattress. 

Bressie frowns and brings his hand down, sharp and sudden, to the boy’s arse. The sound of flesh on flesh rings out loud in the darkened room and Niall cries out in surprise. 

“Keep still,” Bressie says sharply. Niall makes a hiccuping sound but obeys, keeping his hips against the bed and not moving. 

“See that? You do know how to listen.” Bressie rubs his palm over the sore skin in reward. “Now, tell me.” 

He watches the boy’s face and can see how he’s straining to be obedient and keep still, despite Bressie’s hand on him and his arousal. “They said that you were - well, that you weren’t um.” He stutters and stumbles over his words, embarrassment and his inexperience all over his face. Lord help him but it just makes Bressie harder seeing how innocent the boy is. 

“I just wanted to make it easier for you,” Niall finishes finally. 

Bressie is dumbfounded, to say the least. Make things easier for _him_ , says the child who’s never had anyone inside of him. 

Bressie can’t resist touching him. He slips his fingers between his arse cheeks to where he’s slicked himself up. Bressie can tell he was rough on himself, the rim of his hole pink and tender. He brushes his fingertip over the boy’s puckered flesh where the skin is warm to the touch. Niall curls in on himself and lets out a long, quiet moan that sears Bressie to his bones. Christ, this boy is going to kill him. 

“And what about you, hmm?” He circles his fingertip around the boy’s hole where he’s sensitive. He’s so responsive, his body crying out for what he’s never had. 

"You think you're ready for me," Bressie says. He touches him right at his opening where there’s no give and he’s all tight and small. He pushes and the oil on Niall’s skin allows him to slip inside where he's like a furnace, gripping him tighter than anything Bressie's ever had clenched around his cock.  
“I am,” Niall insists, petulant like a child, his voice muffled in the bedcovers. He pushes his hips back against Bressie’s finger and rocks, the movements inexperienced and needy. 

Bressie shakes his head at the boy’s continued audacity. “Oh I am going to have fun with you,” he says tightly, his already strained composure beginning to unravel. 

He slaps Niall again, harder than the first time, his hand coming down on the boy’s flesh with a resounding smack. This time the boy’s response is shameless. His cries are keening, yearning, and he’s writhing underneath Bressie. 

“You will take me here,” Bressie tells him between grit teeth, “when I deem you ready.” Niall clenches up around him, an involuntary response that makes Bressie’s cock twitch. He pulls out and pushes back in, opening the boy up on just one finger and watching him struggle to take him inside. Having him here in his bed, his skin slick with oil, inviting, begging for something he doesn’t understand, makes Bressie’s control start to fray and all his better judgement go hazy. 

“You are not to touch yourself here again. You are rough, inexperienced. You might have hurt yourself.” He uses his free hand to spread Niall open to watch his finger disappear inside him where he’s new and untouched. He withdraws nearly all the way, Niall protesting, and then fucks back in, taking a perverse pleasure at the hiss of pain Niall makes and the way his body clenches up around him. 

“It pleases me,” Bressie says, his voice going softer, a caress now instead of an admonition, “how badly you want this.” He bends down and touches his mouth to the sweet curve of Niall’s arse. “ _You_ please me.” 

“Thank you,” the boy says breathlessly. 

Bressie pulls out leaving Niall empty and wanting and grips him by the hips. He makes a surprised sound as Bressie flips him to his back and leaves him exposed underneath the moonlight. With his night shirt still rucked up under his arms, his hair disheveled and his cock hard and wet, he looks debauched and ruined and Bressie hasn’t even begun. 

Fuck, he’s so lovely. His body is thin but strong, muscles flexing in his thighs. He has the loveliest little cock Bressie has ever seen, slender like the rest of him and pink with arousal, making a mess on his stomach. 

He drags his eyes up and finds Niall watching him hungrily, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breaths. 

“Give me your hands,” Bressie instructs, aware of how eager to please Niall is, blindly trusting in him. 

Niall doesn’t hesitate to obey. He lifts his hands and allows Bressie to push his arms overhead, settling them against the bed. 

"Keep your hands there.” 

Bressie settles back for a look. Niall’s cock is pink and weeping onto his belly, his eyes wet with unshed tears, his body straining with the need to come. 

“Look how lovely you are.” He settles his palm on Niall’s belly above his prick and takes in the changes in his body as he reacts to the touch. “I am going to enjoy training you, sweet pet. I can see how desperate you are to please me.” 

And he is. It’s clear how he’s straining to keep his arms above his head, to keep from touching himself and begging for what he wants. 

Bressie rewards him with a hand between his thighs, cupping his bollocks, feeling the weight and warmth of them in his palm for a moment before moving down and tucking his fingertip back inside. 

Niall’s reaction is immediate. He squeezes his eyes closed and thrashes on the bed but he doesn’t move his arms. 

He doesn’t let Niall adjust this time. He pushes a second finger alongside the first and strokes him from the inside out where he’s warm and so tight. 

Niall tightens up around him. 

"Does that hurt?" He knows the answer as a flicker of discomfort flashes across the lad's face. 

"Yes, my lord," he hisses and Bressie presses down hard inside where he can feel the boy's bump all swollen and sensitive and Niall cries out, hips hitching up off the bed. 

"Oh please," he says on a whimper and Bressie curses aloud when he feels him clench down again, his hips hunching, seeking more. 

Bressie rubs his fingertip more firmly against the hot swollen bump of the boy's prostate. His response is beautifully uninhibited, his body bowing, arching up, seeking more. He can see how close he is, his prick dripping onto his soft belly and every touch making him shudder in pleasure.

Bressie wraps his free hand around the boy’s aching prick, working his fist over him. He keeps two fingers tucked inside him and lets Niall fuck himself to an orgasm, chasing it, his entire body strung tight and straining for it. 

"Oh sweet, eager boy," Bressie breathes. "You are more perfect than I could have dreamed." 

Niall cries out and comes at Bresie’s praise, his arse tightening up around his fingers and his cock pulsing in his hand, wetting his belly with his come. 

Bressie releases the boy’s cock but keeps his fingers inside him while he comes down, struggling to steady his breathing as his body trembles with aftershocks. 

When he’s relaxed somewhat Bressie tugs his fingers out. He swipes his palm through the mess on Niall’s stomach and wraps his slick fingers around the length of his own cock. 

“You were a good pet for me,” Bressie tells him. “But you _will_ be punished for your behavior tonight.” 

“Yes my lord,” the boy mumbles. He’s watching, wide-eyed and hungry, as Bressie brings himself off, working his fist over his cock the way he likes. 

“Spread your legs for me,” he says as he feels the familiar wave crest, his bollocks tightening. 

He can see how exhausted the boy is now that he’s come but he obeys after the slightest hesitation, letting his thighs splay open so Bressie can get a good, clear look at his hole. 

Fuck, he wants to completely wreck the lad, fuck him open until he’s crying and begging. Just the thought of it has him close and he strokes himself fast and steady, his eyes on Niall and his head playing out filthy scenarios. 

He aims right at the boy’s pink little hole and comes hard right there between his legs, all over his soft, tender skin. It’s obscene, the stark white of his seed on the boy’s flesh and Bressie shudders through the last of it. 

Niall’s watching him, a heady combination of sleepy and aroused. 

Bressie’s still breathing hard but he’s not done with his pet just yet. He uses his fist to smear his seed down the length of his softening cock and says, the tone of his voice brooking no argument, “now you may clean me up.” 

The boy’s eyes widen with confusion. “My lord?” 

He grabs a fistful of Niall’s hair, urging him up from his position on his back to his knees, and guides him more gently than he normally would to his prick. 

“Clean me up,” he says again. “Show me how remorseful you are that you disobeyed my orders.” He thumbs Niall’s mouth open, slick with his come, and watches the realization dawn across his face. 

“Yes my lord,” he mumbles, ashamed and intrigued all at once. 

Bressie feeds him his cock, still half hard, and Niall keeps his eyes down as he tastes him, licking tentatively at Bressie. 

“Keep going,” Bressie instructs, watching Niall war with himself, desperate to please but unsure. He laps like a kitten at Bressie’s prick and grows bolder, his nose wrinkling at the new taste. He drags his tongue down the length, cleaning him. Bressie can feel the hesitation give to curiosity, and then hunger, little sounds coming from him as he tastes him. 

“Oh good boy,” Bressie says on a breath.

Fuck. Bressie loves the feel of an enthusiastic mouth. He’s had more skilled, practiced mouths but nothing comes close to the hungry inexperience of his pet cleaning him. He lets Niall continue, a hand in his hair guiding him, until his mouth and chin are slick, come and his own saliva making a mess of him. 

Niall lingers with his mouth on Bressie, licking him until finally Bressie tugs him off, ignoring the throaty little protest he makes. 

"That's enough." 

Bressie releases Niall and helps him get sorted out, his night shirt straightened and sorted in case he should run into a member of the household.

“Go to your chambers,” Bressie says, gripping Niall by the chin. “You need to sleep, if you’re going to be ready for your training in the morning.”

He can see the hesitation in the boy’s eyes, but he doesn’t argue. “Yes my lord.”


End file.
